


If at First You Don't Succeed

by RandallsRedTie



Category: The Hour
Genre: Backstory, Comfort, F/M, Hurt, Seduction, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-26
Updated: 2012-11-26
Packaged: 2017-11-19 15:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/574756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandallsRedTie/pseuds/RandallsRedTie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic Prompt from TheCrazyGeek ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If at First You Don't Succeed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheCrazyGeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrazyGeek/gifts).



Lix had taken notice of the new journalist straight away. He was tall and handsome with wavy golden-brown hair, bright blue eyes behind round tortoiseshell glasses and wearing a well-cut grey suit, red tie. A bright white smile. Lilting Scottish accent, voice at once rich and gravelly. Randall Brown. Transferred here from Glasgow where he’d proved himself to be a sensational writer with an uncanny knack for finding a good story. 

He might as well have had a target painted on his back for Lix.

She decided that he would be her newest conquest, having already conquered most of the men in the office (and some of the women)

The first time she tried to seduce him occurred about a month after his arrival. They and some of the other employees at the paper had gone out to dinner one warm London night. She made sure she was sat next to him at the table. Halfway through the meal she let a hand wander across her lap and onto his thigh, let it linger, then moved up. A flash of shock crossed his face fast as lightning. He gripped her hand then slowly put it back on her lap, swallowing hard, a fiery blush spreading across his pale cheeks. After he finished his meal he paid his tab and left in a hurry. Lix thought about chasing him down but she was slightly drunk and thought better of it.

*

The second time was in the paper’s darkroom. He’d been working on a story about the rise of jazz in Britain and she’d been the photographer. They were sorting out some of the photos together. Being so close to him was intoxicating. She could smell his cologne over the scent of the photo chemicals, could hear him breathing. Before she knew it she was wrapping her arms around him and kissing him fiercely. And he was kissing her back. He’d just gotten his tie off when light broke into the room. The editor had a somewhat amused look on his face upon discovering the two of them together but said nothing more than, “Randall I need to talk to you about that story. My office in ten.” Randall wiped Lix’s lipstick from his mouth, stammered an apology and walked out of the darkroom to put himself back together. Lix just stood staring at the spot where he previously stood, frustrated tears burning at her eyes.

*

The third time came and went. A New Year’s party. Too much champagne. Stolen kisses in the back hallways. A stumble into a cab, hands fumbling for keys and Randall swaying through Lix’s door.  She went to the toilet to clean up a bit and came back to find him passed out cold on her sofa. With a shake of her head she fetched a warm blanket and covered him with it, removed his glasses and put them on the side table. She watched him for a while as he slept, reached over and brushed a lock of rich brown hair from his forehead. And in that moment Lix knew she loved him.

*

The fourth time Randall actually made the first move. They were both working late, pressed up against a deadline. Randall seemed to be struggling for inspiration. Lix had never seen him so wound up. He fussed endlessly with the things on his desk, paced the room like a caged tiger. Undid his tie, threw it to the ground. Minutes later picked it up and put it back on, endlessly loosening and tightening it until he finally got it right. He sat down at his desk and began typing, ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Lix walked over to him and caressed the back of his neck, trying to sooth him. He sprang up from his chair then, pulled her harshly into his arms, crashed his mouth down on hers. So hard that his teeth cut her lip. She could taste her own blood in her mouth as he kissed her, deeply, tongues battling against each other. Finally she broke the kiss, pushed him away. The room was silent except for their ragged breathing. He looked like a wild man, eyes full of blue fire and lust. That look scared the shit out of Lix. Randall was usually so composed almost to the point of military perfection (his father had been a soldier) In that moment he looked positively unhinged. She touched her fingers to her cut lip, observed the blood staining her pale skin, looked back at him in astonishment. Randall’s expression changed from wild longing to concern, then embarrassment. He looked down at his shoes, guiltily, muttered an apology. Lix said it was alright and excused herself. Shakily she walked out of the room, dazed at his outburst of passion. 

*

Then finally Lix and Randall came together. It was 1935. Randall had received a telegram from home and had left the office immediately. Lix knew it must have been important for him to leave in such a hurry. She asked the editor if he knew what had happened. He told Lix that Randall’s father had died and he had to go to Scotland to help his mother prepare for the funeral.

Then a week later Lix’s phone rang out in the middle of the night. It was Randall. And he sounded drunk and heartbroken and he begged her to come over and stay with him. She put on some clothes and left her flat. Luckily his place wasn’t far from hers and the night was warm. She made her way up to his flat on the fourth floor of an old building and was shocked by the man who opened the door for her. He hadn’t shaved in days, his eyes were red and swollen as if he’d been crying forever. His usually tidy flat was a mess, clothes were strewn everywhere, empty beer and whisky bottles lined the side tables. The air stank of cigarettes and damp.  Lix followed Randall into his bedroom. She watched as he sat down on the edge of the bed, slid his braces off his shoulders. He looked up at her with eyes that pleaded for comfort, held his hand out to her. And she was undone. He made love tenderly, almost as if he were afraid to let go and lose control. When they were finished she held him close to her, could feel his warm tears on her skin where his head pillowed against her breasts. “Thank you, thank you for coming.” he whispered shakily before falling into a deep sleep.

The next morning they woke tangled into each other, her face buried in his chest. She got up first, got dressed, left him on the bed as she went into the living room and began to clear away the bottles and ashtrays and pick up his rumpled clothing. She heard him get up and make his way to the toilet to get cleaned up. When he was clean and shaved he helped her clear away the rest of the mess he’d created in his drunken wake. They left the flat together, stopping to get some breakfast on the way to work. Well Lix had breakfast, Randall couldn’t stomach much more than a cup of tea. They couldn’t seem to stop smiling at each other as they finished their drinks. And in that moment, Randall knew he loved her.


End file.
